


Concerning a hungry but slightly more patient Audrey II

by Doceo_Percepto



Category: Little Shop of Horrors - All Media Types
Genre: And Manipulation, Animal Death, Arguing with a plant, Bonding with a plant, Conversations with a plant, Sexual tension with a plant, by a plant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22388674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: This is a collection of drabbles about Seymour and Audrey II's interactions. All the drabbles take place within the span of the movie/play. I don't draw from any particular canon; however, these are written with the invasion in mind for an ending. Everything goes a little slower and bouncier than in the movie/play. Seymour is adorably emotionally vulnerable. Audrey II is having fun.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 69





	1. Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Me, starting a new fic without finishing previous ones? Never.

Audrey II was almost as tall as Seymour, and Seymour himself wasn’t doing too great lately, but business had never been better, so that was all that mattered, right…?

Well, it was hard to feel too positive - Seymour was closing up the shop after Orin had driven off with Audrey in tow. Who knew _what_ that guy would do. Seymour hated him from head to toe.

“ _Seymour_ ,” churred a horribly familiar voice.

Great. Twoey always got talkative at night. Usually because it was hungry. And sure, Seymour was glad the plant didn’t get chatty while customers were here (in fact, Twoey was pretty darn cooperative during the day), but sometimes Seymour wished he could crawl to the basement and not have to deal with the thing.

No such luck tonight. “Aw, Sey-mour. C’mon, tell me - what’s gotchya down?”

Day in and day out, nobody really noticed Seymour feeling low. Except Twoey, who just _had_ to bring it up. Seymour crossed his arms. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Ohh no, you ain’t. You think I don’t know you?” Mimicking Seymour, Twoey crossed two leaves over each other in a gesture unnervingly human.

“If you know me so well, then you should know why I’m upset!” Seymour snapped, displaying his bandaged fingers. He wasn’t the sort of guy to snap, and he’d feel guilty if it were anybody but Twoey. Still, his head throbbed something awful, he was tired and angry, already dreading Audrey II’s inevitable demand to be fed. Not to mention Orin, the real reason for his anger. Seymour had every right to be testier than usual.

Twoey swung his head side to side. “Boy, what’s wrong with you right now has got nothing to do with me. Or hahah, at least, _I’m_ not what you’re all mad about. Just spit it out, and get it off your back."

“Why do you even care, anyway?” Seymour asked bitterly. “Don’t you just want me for food?” Even he was starting to feel he was being too harsh. The plant was the sole reason Mushnik’s shop had been doing so well. Seymour could do with a little gratefulness: it wasn’t like Twoey could help the fact it required blood to live.

Apparently Audrey II was just as put off, voice lilting high in offense, “Ouch, after all our time together?” Softening, it added, “Seymour, who else would even listen to you? Mr. Mushnik? Hah!” Audrey II settled lower on itself, in a look half-smug, half-pointed. Its lips were firmly closed, which Seymour was sure grateful for, because he didn’t much like looking at the size of Twoey’s teeth nowadays.

“Stop that. Mr. Mushnik took me in when nobody else would.”

“Ain’t done a thing for you since.”

“That’s _not_ true, Twoey!”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Mr. Mushnik has-“ Seymour sighed through gritted teeth. What was the point of arguing? It was true, at least, that Mr. Mushnik didn’t have much patience for Seymour’s woes, even if he’d go off about how horrid Orin was, too. What harm would it do, anyway? Seymour needed SOMEONE to vent to. “Fine. It’s Orin! Happy?” Soon as he said it, he couldn't stop. “Stupid, dentist, _Orin_. I hate him to my core!”

Audrey II hummed, long and deep. “ _Anybody_ can see how he’s pushin’ around Audrey.”

The way Twoey said Audrey’s name, it’s like it knew Audrey was something special. There was this subtle emphasis. Like Twoey got it, got how great she was. Validated, Seymour threw up his arms and repeated, “Anybody can! He doesn’t even try to hide it! And - and we’re all supposed to act like we’re okay with it?! Twoey, it’s been killing me! This shouldn't be allowed! Someone’s gotta stop him, she doesn’t deserve that - she - she deserves a prince, a -“

“Deserves _you_.”

Seymour nearly bit through his cheek. He’d never been able to hide his feelings about Audrey from Audrey II. Maybe he should have thought out the plant’s name better. Recovering himself, he said, “I’d be all right if she never ended up with me-“ it stung to say but was true, “so long as she isn’t with that creep! So long as she’s happy!”

For once Twoey didn’t have some quick quip or retort, so Seymour clenched his fists and glared at the floor. “He’s good for nothing,” Seymour muttered. “Don’t you know it, Twoey; I’ve never hated anyone before, but I hate him. I just-“

“ _Wish he’d die_?” cooed Audrey II.

“Wh- _what_?”

“You heard me.”

Seymour’s heart raced. All right, it had crossed his mind before - He loathed to admit it, but with a guy like Orin, it was hard not to. One time, he was about certain that Orin was going to kick Audrey to the curb and leave her like trash: that had boiled his blood so bad and it made him feel awful inside that he didn’t do a single thing to stop Orin. “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Seymour replied, but he didn’t believe it for a second.

Audrey II peeled its lips back, and then those teeth were on display in a grin. Seymour wished it wouldn't do that. “Is it really so bad?” Audrey II purred. “Or don’t you think the world would be just a little better without him around? Ain’t like anybody’d miss him!”

“That’s murder, Twoey; you’re talking about murder!”

“The way I see it, it’s murder if you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Audrey II laughed, low and dark. “Black eye? Broken arm? C’mon, Seymour, what do you think is next? How far from a broken neck?”

“ _No_!” Seymour shoved at Audrey II, even though it very much felt like shoving an elephant. Audrey II tilted its head away, teeth peeking from under its lips. “Orin-“ wouldn’t. Seymour’s argument fell apart before it even began. Would he? 

“You’d be doin’ her a favor,” Audrey II said quietly. “And with me around, you don’t gotta worry about any evidence-“

That’s what it was. Right there. Audrey II just wanted to eat. Like always. And it would say or do anything to get fed. Seymour backed away, expression carefully controlled. Audrey II was just talking. Just leading Seymour along. He shouldn't listen. Only trouble was… the plant might be right. With Orin’s demented nature… his increasing violence (and it was increasing, Seymour wasn’t so dumb to think it wasn’t…). No. He couldn't fathom Audrey…. Audrey…

“I’m _not_ committing murder,” Seymour said sharply. “And - and don’t think you’re eating tonight after all that talk!”

He stomped down to the basement with Audrey II's laughter in his ears. He couldn't sleep, swamped by terror. What if Orin did... did hurt her so bad that...

He didn't dare complete the thought, but fear didn't let him forget it.


	2. Feeding

Seymour’s entire hand could fit into Audrey II’s mouth. Probably his whole arm, too. 

This was the kind of thing he thought about when feeding Audrey II. Well, he thought about a great deal of things, because his mind wandered and he had to feed Audrey II an awful lot, but… right now, with two fingers held between Twoey’s suckling lips and framed by yellowed fangs… it’d be so easy for Twoey to take his hand off in one bite. That’s what he was thinking now. With every feeding, the tiny little pricks on his fingers seemed smaller and smaller compared to Audrey II’s bigger and bigger size.

Frankly, what Seymour gave wasn’t gonna be enough forever. Seymour knew that. Already he was in the habit of pricking multiple fingers per feeding just to sate Twoey. But what would he do when that wasn’t enough? Audrey II wanted to eat _people._ Whole live people. That was out of the question, obviously, but what _would_ Seymour do once his own blood wasn’t enough? What _could_ he do? One man only had so much in his veins.

Even now, after two good slices to Seymour’s fingers, Twoey was showing familiar signs of impatience: sucking hard at his finger tips, lathing the wounds with its tongue like it wanted to wriggle into the injuries. It was disgusting. Seymour could barely bear to watch. Why couldn’t Twoey settle for some sunlight and rain like other plants? Why did it have to need blood, of all things? 

Sighing, Seymour adjusted his sitting position. What a life. Well, it was better than before. And blood wasn’t such a freaky sight to him anymore, at least. The first few feedings he was so disgusted he could barely believe it. Now, it was mostly just Audrey II being Audrey II. It loved the stuff, even if Seymour couldn't fathom it. 

“How about the butcher’s?” Seymour suggested, not for the first time. “I know, I know, the meat isn’t what you want, but maybe we can get something fresh-"

His line of questioning was interrupted by Twoey’s powerful vines twining around his wrist. They _pulled_ , bringing Seymour’s fingers deeper into Audrey II’s maw, while the plant moaned in pleasure. 

No. Nope. No no no.

This was a stunt the plant had done before. It had blamed its actions on its intense hunger. Said that it couldn't help itself. And said it wouldn't do it again. Here it was, doing it again.

“ _Twoey!_ ” Seymour shouted. He tugged sharply back, not that it mattered: if Audrey II didn’t _want_ to release Seymour, then there was no way in hell Seymour would be strong enough to rip out of the plant’s clutches. That was another fact Seymour knew but didn’t like to dwell on. It made his heart race terribly. His voice quavered, “Twoey, you let me go now! You said you wouldn't do this! _Twoey!”_

The vines clenched like corded muscle, like Audrey II was thinking of doing the exact opposite of what Seymour wanted. If that didn’t make Seymour’s heart shoot right into his throat - But then the vines released. Slipped off his wrists, leaving not a mark. Audrey II detached with a nasty slurp. 

“That’s not funny,” Seymour spat to cover up his nerves.

“Not enough, Seymour,” the plant whined. “I’m _hungry_.”

“That’s all I got. Anyway, that’s already more than last time-“

“More!” Audrey II barked, louder. 

“Look, I’ll get you more tomorrow, but I’m tired and-“

“Feed me, Seymour!” It growled. Vines snared Seymour’s ankle. “Feed me, or your little shop goes down the drain!”

“Geez, then you wouldn't get any food at all!” It was all bark and no bite. Seymour knew he needed to keep Audrey II full. It was the only good thing he’d ever done. And if he stopped - well, if he stopped, he ruined everything. Back to being nobody, sweeping the floors of a dead end shop. A shop Mr. Mushnik would close, and then where would Seymour be? Starving on the streets, not a penny to his name. He was pulling out a pocket knife without another word of protest. 

Audrey II shivered, leaves rustling. “Yes, yes-“

“I can’t keep doing this, you hear me? At this rate, I’m not gonna have any blood left.”

“C’mon, more, more!”

“I’m getting there,” Seymour muttered. In all honesty, Twoey’s impatience scared him something awful. Maybe it would be sweet, or endearing, like any pet excited to eat, if not for the fact Twoey wanted _blood._ As it was, Seymour deep down sometimes feared for his own life. Feared for maintaining the future. Feared-

“C’mon, you’re starving me!”

Seymour hissed under his breath as he split open his finger again. The knife clumsily slid in his always-klutzy grip, parting a bigger wound than he’d wanted. Audrey II made a low, eager noise. It was already edging its mouth closer, stretching out of its pot. 

“Relax, I’m getting there-“ He’d barely held out his hand before Twoey’s lips were clamped around his fingers. Its teeth pressed to his palm; Seymour shuddered. “Take it easy, Twoey.” He might as well have said nothing. Audrey II was always the worst at listening when hungry. At least it didn’t bite down. At least it didn’t grab Seymour with its vines again. Things could be worse, Seymour told himself. Audrey II didn’t have to listen at all. It loved eating, and got into a certain frenzy when it did: Seymour was lucky indeed the thing could control itself at all in that state.

Seymour’s eyes slid to take in all the bandages around his fingers and hands. What a mess. What a wreck. He’d always been a real wreck. At least he had that going for him, in the sense Mr. Mushnik hadn’t said anything about his injuries yet. Just a shoulder shrug. The usual, there’s Krelborn again. Can’t hold shears without hurting himself.

Seymour’s thoughts swirled together. A mix of all his clumsiness in the past. He was finally doing something good, though. Finally helping the shop. Helping… helping… 

His head nodded. His heart was racing all funny-like. Body trembly and cold. Tired. Tired enough to sleep for days. Weak-

Seymour jerked his head upright, fresh panic flooding in. “W-wait, I - I think I’m losing too much blood-“ He shoved weakly at Audrey II’s bulb. “You gotta stop, I’m-“ 

The shop swam foggily around him as Audrey II obediently released his hand, licking its lips and sighing. 

“You’re-?” Audrey II prodded expectantly. 

“I’m not feeling too hot,” Seymour said. 

“Well, then step outside,” laughed Audrey II. 

“No, not like that, I mean-“ Seymour looked down at his hand to find it still dribbling blood. That bigger cut was really doing him in, on top of his general anemia these past few weeks… “I need to get bandages-“ he dug in his pockets, to no avail. Downstairs; he had more downstairs -

Seymour fought off his dizziness and exhaustion long enough to stand sharply, but the energy it took to walk did him in within moments. 

* * *

Voices chattered. Light glared. Something held him tightly. Almost protectively. Didn’t stop those voices from disturbing his rest, though. Groaning,Seymour blinked open his eyes. Green. 

Green everywhere. 

Except for huge red lips curling into a grin that poorly concealed crooked, predatory teeth. Audrey II had grown. 

Seymour’s heart thudded with instinctive fear. His eyes flicked left and right. He was… laying in coils of Audrey II’s vines. Not unlike a nest formed just for him on the shop floor. Gauging by the sun beaming through the windows, it was morning. 

Why… why would he be here…? Instead of in his own bed?

Then it came surging back. He was feeding Audrey II. He’d gotten light-headed. He’d… passed out. Passed out, bleeding, in front of the damn carnivorous plant. And he’d made it to morning.

“Finally awake?” Audrey II chuckled.

“You didn’t kill me,” Seymour uttered with plain shock. The plant could have. Real easily. It could have ate him up and he’d have been too weak to fight back. 

Audrey II laughed. “Don’t you want to get the shop going? You’re openin’ in mmmh, fifteen minutes?”

Swearing, Seymour scrambled out of the makeshift nest and to his feet. Another bout of dizziness nearly had him laid out again, but a helpful vine gave him support until he’d steadied. Seymour threw a look back at the plant. “You…” 

“Your Audrey’s on her way,” Audrey II chimed, a needlessly seductive waver at the end of its words.

Seymour snapped his mouth shut. No time. He had to set up shop. And clean off his red-stained fingers before Audrey got here. With a firm nod, he uttered, “thanks,” and was on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm open to chapter suggestions if there's something you wanna see.


	3. Singing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pinkzombierobot for the idea of Seymour catching Audrey II singing to itself! I really liked the idea. Not sure if this is the route you were intending, but I started writing and here is where it went.

Sleeping hadn’t been the easiest of tasks lately. It ought’a be, what with all the blood loss, busy work days, and stress. You’d think Seymour would pass right out the second his head hit the pillow, no matter how hard and uncomfy that pillow was. That wasn’t so. Weird thoughts kept him up at night. Thoughts about all the changes around the shop. Thoughts about Audrey. Insidious ones about Orin, too. _How long until he really hurts her?_

Sometimes Seymour’s inner voice took on the sound of Audrey II’s voice, as it taunted him and warned him. Orin was dangerous. There wasn’t any doubt. He shouldn't be anywhere NEAR a lady like Audrey. But what could Seymour do, really? 

_Feed him to the plant, of course._

_That’s murder._

_That’s getting things done. And when he’s dead and gone-_

Seymour ground his teeth into his lip, hating himself. What sort of guy was he, to think about killing someone else in order to get a girl? Like Audrey was property to be traded. That was twisted! Sure, it wasn’t his main goal - what mattered most was getting Orin away from Audrey. Giving Audrey the chance to live her life without fear and pain. Letting her know she was special, and deserved better. That was what Seymour wished. He’d be lying to say he didn’t _also_ wish, in his darkest dreams, that… that with Orin out of the way, Audrey might…

“You fool,” Seymour muttered to himself, knotting his blankets in a fist. “You might be bringing in more money, but that’s only because of Audrey II and you know it.” A beautiful lady like her wouldn't want anything to do with him. 

Seymour hated these thoughts, too. They just went in circles. Over and over. He almost wished he didn’t love Audrey. If he didn’t love her, he wouldn't be thinking such horrid things. He wouldn't wish so strongly, deep down, that Orin was dead. And wouldn't wish that maybe the plant’s magic could do just a _little_ more for him. Could make Audrey like him, even when he was so unlikable. 

Seymour didn’t dare ask Audrey II if that was within its abilities. He ought to just learn to be happy with what he had. And pray that some awful disaster did Orin in, just for Audrey’s sake. 

Seymour rolled over, sighing, and screwed his eyes shut. 

He was just drifting off when some indescribable eerie noise had his eyes snapping open fast. 

It was a voice. 

Upstairs. 

Warbled by the layers of wood and paint between Seymour and the shop, yet it was unmistakable. 

_Somebody was in the shop._

Seymour’s heart hammered. In all his time living here, nobody had broken into the shop before. Some other places on Skid Row, sure - burglaries weren’t all that uncommon. Mr. Mushnik’s shop, though? Nobody had ever bothered. Not until now. 

Seymour sat upright in bed, tense as a board. Of course someone might want to now that business was taking off. Flowers were sure an odd thing to steal, but -

But Audrey II.

Seymour thought two things simultaneously. 

One - whoever broke in must be interested in Audrey II. That bulb was the very thing drawing in all their customers nowadays. 

Two - whoever broke in _wasn’t safe around Audrey II._ Not alone. Not when Seymour hadn’t fed it last night.

Seymour didn’t know whether to grab Mr. Mushnik’s machete to fight off the intruder, or to rush in prepared to pull a grown man from Audrey II’s jaws. He’d just have to be ready for either. Seymour leapt out of his bed, snatched the machete just in case, and was about halfway up the stairs before he stopped abruptly. 

Closer to the door now, he could hear the voice more clearly. Enough to recognize its knowing and ominous tone. Enough to realize that the voice was not speaking, but rather _singing_. 

Seymour froze in place, machete in hand, wearing naught but threadbare pajamas. While his feet got cold on the step, he listened. 

It was true. 

Audrey II was singing. Unaware it had any audience.

Seymour didn’t know what to make of it. He had no idea Audrey II could sing. Well, it could talk. So of course it could sing. He’d just never thought of the plant doing anything like that. Singing was a… a real _human_ thing to do. Seymour himself sometimes sang, though he didn’t consider himself any good at it, when he was alone and knew nobody was listening. Singing was a way he got out emotions, when they became too overwhelming. Singing often made him feel better, when he selfishly considered his situation too bleak.

Singing was a way of expressing the soul. 

Maybe Seymour found it so jarring to hear Audrey II sing, because even after their numerous conversations, he’d been reluctant to accept the carnivorous plant might have a soul. 

Quietly, Seymour crept higher up the staircase. What would Audrey II be singing about? What did the plant want, except blood? 

Funny thing was, Seymour couldn't make out any words. Couldn't make heads or tails of what Audrey II was saying. The syllables were funny, lilting. Not English. 

Not English. 

This was one shock after another. Audrey II was not only singing, but singing in a language Seymour didn’t recognize. 

Seymour pressed his palm to his cheek. All along, he’d been dehumanizing Audrey II. For a decent enough reason, maybe - Audrey II _wasn’t_ human, and mostly it just seemed concerned about its next meal. Though… that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Audrey II asked about Seymour a good deal. Expressed displeasure about Orin. It had opinions on things that one wouldn't think a plant would have opinions on. And it never complained about how much Seymour used to vent to it, back before Seymour knew it could talk. 

“Gee, Seymour, look at you,” Seymour muttered to himself, low enough the plant wouldn't hear. “All along you've been treating it just like a thing not a person.”

And now it was _singing._

Seymour couldn't say he liked the cadence of the song; truth be told, it was sinister. Maybe just because he couldn't understand the words. It might be a nice song. It was still garbled by the door, too, maybe he just wasn’t catching it properly. Seymour quietly turned the knob, peering out.

No mistaking it. Audrey II was even doing something not unlike a dance, its vines coiling and twirling forebodingly, reminiscent of a snake summoned by a charmer.The whole bulb swayed gently with the slow funeral-esque pace. Creepy, but kind of peaceful. 

Then the song stopped. The vines dropped to the floor. “How long are ya gonna sit there and _watch_ , Seymour?” Said Audrey II, without looking his way.

“Ack!” Seymour started, banged his head against the doorknob, and then in the resulting flail of pain, nearly dropped the machete on his own foot. 

Audrey II laughed as Seymour stumbled out of the basement, whimpering and clutching his head. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Didn’t know you liked watchin’ me so much. Next time let me know, and I’ll put on a show.”

Seymour tripped but caught himself, and threw a bewildered glance at Audrey II. Why did it always have to say stuff like that? Ignoring that remark, Seymour asked, “D-do you sing a lot?”

Twoey flipped a few leaves up in a dismissive gesture. “It’s not uncommon.”

“That wasn’t English.”

“Figure that one out all by yourself?”

Seymour flushed. “Well, just - what was it? How’d you learn it?”

“The man doesn’t ask how I learned English, but he wants to know how I learned any other language!” The plant guffawed. 

“You don’t have to be rude about it!” Not that Audrey II was listening, as it was laughing too hard to pay him any mind. “I’m just curious,” Seymour said, quieter. “What were you singing about?”

“Mm, eating some sweet juicy red-“

“Twoey!”

Again the plant broke into laughter. Seymour didn’t think it was saying a single truthful thing tonight. “Is it ‘cause you’re lonely?” Seymour dared to ask. 

Silence. Audrey II tilted its head, lips closed. 

“C-Cause, sometimes, I-“ Seymour averted his eyes. “Sometimes I sing when I’m lonely, too. And- and I know it might seem odd, with everyone in and outta the shop all day nowadays, but… sometimes crowds are loneliest of all, y’know? I just thought, maybe…” He wasn’t sure what he thought. Up until now, he hadn’t thought much at all of Audrey II’s emotional state. He’d just thought about keeping the plant alive and blooming, to keep bringing in customers. Now he was thinking all kinds of other things. “Maybe it’s lonely, when you’re the only… well, the only Audrey II around.” 

Which was a good thing, really. Seymour couldn't deal with more than one.

Audrey II slowly turned its bulb towards the window, towards the sky. Almost like it was looking at the stars. That too, was a human gesture. Seymour had more than once looked at the stars, wishing for a better life.

“You _do_ get lonely, dont’cha?” Seymour said. 

Audrey II nodded. 

Seymour didn’t think there was anything to worry about, concerning more Audrey II’s. There was just this one, after all. So that made it easier to accept Audrey II being lonely, made it easier to sympathize. Seymour crept closer to the plant’s side, and placed one hand on its large head. He rubbed gently. He didn’t know much about comforting a plant; this would have to do. 

“I’m sorry,” Seymour said. “I’d give ya more plants for company, except-“ Seymour winced, looking around at the shop already chock full of plants. “I’m guessing it’s not the same when they don’t talk, huh?”

Seymour missed the little quirk up at the edge of Audrey II’s lips. He missed, too, the eerie edge to its next words, “You ain’t gotta worry about me, boy. Nobody stays lonely forever.”

“I hope that’s true,” Seymour replied, gazing at the stars. “I really hope that’s true.”


	4. Cat 1

Twice Seymour collapsed in the shop today. Audrey worked herself into a fervor fussing over him, despite Seymour’s assurances he was fine. The second time, Mr. Mushnik ordered Seymour to the basement. “You aren’t doing anyone a lick of good, falling onto arrangements, messing up orders, crushing plants. Go, git!” He’d yelled. 

So the afternoon Seymour spent lazing in bed, fiddling with his plants, and attempting to nurse himself back to health. Of course, he knew what was wrong. He wasn’t sick, not exactly. The best he could do was drink some water, eat a little food… and hope Audrey II would settle without dinner tonight. 

All day footsteps stomped back and forth above his head. At last six o clock rolled around. The hubbub of the work day died down. Mr. Mushnik came by to check on Seymour, “Good, you’re awake! I better see you working _twice_ as hard in the shop tomorrow, Seymour!” And Seymour thought it was rather nice Mr. Mushnik would make sure he was doing all right. 

After that, the shop was closed and locked up, and nobody was left except old Seymour. Well, Seymour and Audrey II, of course. Maybe if he just stayed downstairs, and didn’t say anything - 

“KRELBORN!”

Seymour winced and burrowed himself deeper into his covers. Maybe if he ignored Audrey II, only for tonight…

“FEED ME, KRELBORN!”

The yell was loud enough that Seymour swore up and down it shook the shop supports. Seymour cowered in bed. He just didn’t have the blood to give; he couldn't feed the plant. He couldn't at all. At this rate, he’d be dead by tomorrow! 

“FEED. _ME!_ ”

Oh gosh, at that volume, everyone on the whole block would be able to hear it. What if someone did hear? What if they came by? The shop was locked for sure, but what if they saw Twoey moving around? What if what if what if-

“ _FEED ME_ ** _NOW!”_**

Oh, that _definitely_ shook the foundation. Seymour leapt out of bed and was beside the plant in an instant. 

“Twoey, please!” He pleaded. “I don’t have any blood _left_! Please don’t yell, Twoey, you’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood.”

Audrey II’s lips were formed in a deep frown. “Feed me,” it demanded, dark and quiet. 

“Twoey, aren’t you listening? I-I would if I could, I really would, but- well, you saw! I could barely stand upright today! Another day like that, and Mr. Mushnik-“

“Feed me!”

“Shh-sh-sh-“ Seymour moved to physically shut Audrey II’s mouth, only for the plant to snap at him. “Hey!”

“I’m _hungry_ ,” Twoey growled in defense of its actions. 

“I can’t feed you!”

“FEED ME!” Thorny vines slammed down on the linoleum. Huge teeth bared in Seymour’s face and for the first time, Seymour realized that Audrey II had finally surpassed Seymour’s height. He took an uneasy step back.

“I-I can go to the butcher’s shop, but they aren’t gonna be open till morning,” Seymour replied. 

“Then you'd _better_ get me something else,” snarled Audrey II. “NOW.”

Seymour raked his fingers through his hair. “I-I don’t know what-“

“Something live and writhin’ and full of that tasty-“

“Okay, okay!” Seymour clamped his hands over his ears. He’d gotten used to feeding his own blood, but the idea of something else getting hurt because of him… that made him shudder. What choice did he have? “I’ll get you something, okay? Just - just wait here.”

“You think I’m going _anywhere_?”

Seymour apologized and then was out the door. Shivering in the night air, he looked around. Something live and writhing. Oh god this was awful. What was he supposed to get? Not a person, no matter how much Audrey II wanted that, no way. So… an… an animal? Seymour winced. The thought of hurting an animal sat horribly with him. “Why can’t Twoey just eat _flies_?” Seymour muttered to himself.

Somewhere down the street, a bottle smashed, and he jumped. Skid Row was never real quiet at night. Always something going on. 

Seymour wandered a block or two, then sat down, head in his hands. “Oh, Seymour, what have you got yourself into?” he sighed. He didn’t want the shop’s success to wane. He didn’t want Twoey to suffer either, to be honest. This just wasn’t sustainable. “What am I gonna do…”

_“Mrow.”_ An orange tail flicked in the corner of his vision.

Seymour dropped his hands. Two perky ears, one with a bite out of it. Two gleaming eyes, seemingly gentle even in the darkness. She was spotted with mud and missing fur, though her vibrant orange color shone through in patches. Under different circumstances, she would have been a beautiful cat, Seymour was sure.

“ _Mrow_ ,” she said, twining herself around his leg, rubbing her cheeks on his pants. 

Seymour smiled softly, and scratched behind her ear. Skid Row had a staggering population of feral cats. Scruffy and dirty, though often very friendly. Even the hardest heart couldn't help finding a little love for them, so many a soul left out what little food or water they could offer.

“Hey, buddy,” Seymour greeted. “Watcha doin’ out-“ 

Wait.

An icy sensation coursed through his body. Cat. 

Meat. 

_Food_. 

No. 

Nonono

Seymour’s fingers fell away from the cat. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d always been a plant sort of guy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like animals. That didn’t mean he’d ever wished them harm!

“ _Mrow_?” She nuzzled his limp fingers.

“Shoo,” Seymour said weakly. “Shoo, git.”

She rubbed her head on his hands. 

He didn’t have anything else to feed Audrey II. Nobody would notice a stray missing, not when there was so many. And if they did, well - strays went missing all the time. And a cat wasn’t human, at least. God knew what else he’d be able to find. And if he didn’t come back with food…

Seymour trembled. “I… I’m so s-sorry…”

“ _Mrow_?”


	5. Cat 2

The cat let herself be picked up without the slightest of fusses. Not all cats were like that, Seymour knew: he’d come across a nasty few before. This girl, though, she didn’t mind the attention at all. 

“Oh, why couldn't you be a mean cat?” Seymour bemoaned. If she were, he might be the slightest bit less guilty. No… he’d probably feel just as awful. 

Head held low, Seymour plodded towards the shop. With every step, he wished and dreaded a person calling out, “hey, what are you doing?” Or something similar. How desperately he hoped someone might stop him. Who would? Any witness would only genially assume he was taking home a stray to care for. They’d have no reason to suspect he intended harm to this creature. 

“I’m sorry,” Seymour whispered to her again. She was so warm and heavy in his arms. Relaxed and trusting. 

Much as Seymour longed for anyone to stop him, no one did. He reached the shop without any trouble, and much too quickly for his comfort. There he stood, arms sore from holding the cat. Not yet ready to go in, although waiting was torturous. Could he really do this?

“It’s just the food chain,” he told the kitty, not convinced. Maybe instead he could shed a few more drops… if he died, well, what of it? At least then he wouldn't be alive to be miserable and riddled with guilt for doing something so awful. Though then Mr. Mushnik and Audrey would be left with the carnivorous plant, not knowing… Seymour shuddered. 

Tucking the cat close to his chest, he stepped into the shop and closed the door behind him. Locked it. 

“ _Mrow_?”

Audrey II just laughed. “A _cat_?”

“Please just made it quick,” Seymour muttered. 

For once, Audrey II didn’t protest or make things more difficult. It simply opened its jaws wide, expectantly. 

The cat, for so long docile, began to thrash and squirm, forcing Seymour to clamp his arms tight around her just to stop her escape. It was like she _knew_. “Please, don’t-“ Seymour groaned, wishing the cat nothing but peace until its very final moment. The cat did not want to hear it - and Seymour couldn’t blame her, with Audrey II’s gaping tooth-ringed maw looming. Seymour stepped nearer to Audrey II, wrestling with the cat. In the struggle, her claws scoured fresh wounds onto his arm. 

Audrey II visibly responded to the scent of fresh blood, and its booming voice growled, “hurry! Feed me!”

“I-I’m trying-“

Vines whipped around his arms, yanking him nearer. The cat yowled. In a bid for her own life, she scrambled up Seymour’s shoulders to flee. She didn’t make it far. With the sound of a whip howling through the air, another vine seized her neck. Before Seymour knew it, the cat was wrenched from his clutches, slung through the air like a mere toy, and them crammed into Audrey II’s gullet. 

Two crunches made swift work of her. 

Seymour screwed his eyes shut and clamped his palms over his ears. Even when it was all said and done, he didn’t move except for the uncontrollable trembles that had struck his body. Hot tears welled in his eyes. 

“ _Seymour_.” Vines slithered around his waist, forcing him so near that he could smell the thick reek of death from Audrey II’s mouth. “ _Sey-mour._ ” It cooed. A thick wet tongue curled around his forearm, tasting the scratches the cat had left. A leaf brushed under his eyes, wiping away the tears. “Don’t you know this is how nature is? It’s _natural_ to be cruel.”

Seymour let out a soft sob. Audrey II was encasing his whole body in branches and vines. Circling his thighs, looping around his shoulders, winding over his waist. Deep down, Seymour knew he should be afraid. He knew Audrey II liked his blood, and that even after a meal, it would happily eat again. He knew the plant could kill him. Maybe he wanted it to. Whatever it was, he wasn’t afraid. 

“I-I don’t know if this is worth it,” Seymour uttered. “I-if I’ve gotta do this, just to keep the shop going… Twoey, I’d rather it fall, I’d rather be poor, I don’t wanna-“

“Shhh….” Another lick to his scratched arm. He should bandage that: last thing he needed was more blood loss - and Audrey II drinking the blood angered him, because it cheapened this whole sacrifice. The point of getting the cat was so Seymour didn’t have to spill his own blood. 

Twoey squeezed him tighter. It was the closest thing Seymour had gotten to a hug in… well, in forever. 

“Sh-she didn’t even _do_ anything-“ He buried his face on top of Audrey II, shuddering. He couldn't do that again. Never again. Not to a creature that had done nothing wrong, not to an animal. Maybe it was silly or sentimental, but as broken up as he felt now, he was sure he’d sooner feed a human than another cat. A human that might - no, _did_ \- deserve it. 

“Oh?” Audrey II said. Seymour realized he must’ve said some of that out loud. 

“I’ve been a fool, Twoey.” His tears were getting all over Audrey II, and it was the most pathetic sight, but the plant didn’t seem to mind, not with it clinging so tight that Seymour could barely move. “You tried to tell me from the start. If I’m gonna do these - these awful things - then I ought to at least do _some_ good with it.”

Audrey II hummed. 

“I won’t hurt anyone or anything that doesn’t have it coming,” the sharp edge in his words scared him. He wasn’t sure he’d agree with hurting _anything_ after he’d calmed down. Then again, all he had to do was imagine Orin abusing Audrey…. It wasn’t hard at all: too easy, in fact, with Audrey’s bruises, for Seymour’s resolve to burn afresh. 

“I’m sick, Twoey,” Seymour uttered helplessly. “I’m a sick person.”

It was almost like Twoey could read his thoughts, as it crooned. “No, now you know that ain’t true. Boy, you've got no idea the things that dentist has done. To people, and animals too. Not to mention _Audrey_. And oohh, if he isn’t stopped…” Twoey tsked. “I tried to tell you, boy, sometimes you gotta kill, if you want what you love to survive.”


	6. Carnivorous Plant Specialist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big call out to [Sp00py](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py) for first of all introducing me to Little Shop of Horrors and second of all, for your delightful late night brainstorming which always creates v fun chapters to write. This idea came from him. As well as probably the ideas for the next two chapters haha.

_Sometimes you gotta kill if you want what you love to survive._

That phrase rang in Seymour’s ears all the following day. He was hardly mentally present, following orders by simple habit and routine. Part of that might have been ‘cause of the blood loss, though.

“We don’t have _time_ for you to be sick!” Mr. Mushnik shouted, when he caught Seymour dozing on his feet in the back room. “You’re half my workforce, and we’ve got a dozen customers. Get back to work, Krelborn!”

“Yes, sir.”

So he drifted about with his head in the clouds, trying to do everything asked of him but largely falling short. He dodged Audrey’s concerned looks all day, not feeling the least bit deserving of it. Customers kept her flying around making arrangement after arrangement, so Seymour hoped she’d just forget he wasn’t feeling well. Only near closing, with the final customers filing out, did Audrey finally stop him in his tracks in the back room. It wasn’t at all hard for Audrey to do that. He was in the middle of delivering some vases to her, when she said his name the sort of way that made his heart jump and his cheeks flush. 

“Seymour, you look so pale,” she breathed. Make-up was caked on extra thick over her jaw, which hid the discoloration, if not the swelling. Despite herself, Audrey was only concerned with others. Selfless from start to end. 

“Oh, I-I’m all right,” Seymour reassured her. “Don’t you worry for a second, Audrey.” Because he didn’t want her worrying. Most of all, he didn’t want to drag her into this. 

She touched his wrist lightly. It was like a butterfly landing on his skin. He froze, breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were the bluest of blue, and brimming with concern. “Seymour,” she whispered, hushed. “I want you to know, if there’s -“

“Seymour! _SEYMOUR_!” Harried and sweating, Mr. Mushnik crashed into the backroom. Audrey’s fingers whisked off Seymour’s wrist, like they were never there. 

“Wh-what is it, Mr. Mushnik?” Seymour stuttered. 

“A man’s here to see you. Some botanist fellow, Mr- Mr Kaba… Kabar… well, whatever, he wants you! Get out there now!”

“But it’s closing-“

Mr. Mushnik leaned in close. “This man’s rolling in money, Seymour; you find out what he wants, and you find out now. Git!”

“Y-yes, Mr. Mushnik!” Out he was shoved, heart still thudding from his interaction with Audrey, mind dwelling on her beautiful eyes. What was it she had to say? If only that moment could last a little longer. If only…

“Seymour Krelborn, there you are!”

“Oh, h-hi-“ 

The man wore a suit so pressed it didn’t look like it should be worn by anyone. How he moved in it was a wonder. A much shorter scrawnier man hung by his side, peering at Seymour furtively.

The first man vigorously shook Seymour’s hand. “Name’s Falcon Kabarachi, great t’meetcha.” The man laughed heartily, although he nor Seymour had said anything remotely funny. “Say, I was gonna have you show me the famous Audrey II, but I see it doesn’t take much searching to find her!” Falcon gestured enthusiastically at the far corner of the shop, where Audrey II’s bulb, leaves, and vines took up nearly a fourth of the entire room. During the day, Audrey II kept its head tilted up and its many extremities tucked in, but even so it was too enormous for its own good.

Seymour smiled nervously, last night’s events fresh in his mind. “Y-yeah, there she is.”

“Incredible. Truly incredible. With your permission, of course, I would love to examine this specimen.”

“… Examine?”

“Absolutely! You see, I’m a professional in the world of carnivorous plants; they’re my speciality, you could say! Butterworts, flytraps, pitcher plants - you name it, I’ve got it! Why, I once gave a presentation at Oxford on _aldrovanda_ _vesiculosa_. But this girl here-?” Falcon whistled. “Why, I’ve never seen anything like her, and I’ve been to all corners of the globe.”

“C-Carnivorous?” Nobody had ever guessed that about Audrey II before. It was correct, sure, but -

Falcon’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you don’t even know what you have! Don’t tell me that you thought she was some common vegetable!?”

“Well, um-“

Falcon clapped his hands. “Oh, you really had me going for a second there! I understand, Seymour - you keep it a secret to maintain the mystery for your customers. Absolutely understandable, absolutely.” He winked. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Um.”

Falcon snapped his fingers, and the second man procured a footstool. “I promise you, Seymour, I wont harm a single leaf.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” Seymour said with alarm as the footstool was placed beside Audrey II. 

“An examination! It seems you don’t know what your plant is - not to blame you, Seymour: this is a matter best left to experts. You see, if it is indeed a unique specimen, then my university will have the greatest of interests in it.”

“I-I didn’t give permission-“

“It’s entirely harmless, weren’t you listening?” In the next moment, Falcon was on the footstool, and his hands were on Audrey II’s bulb. Seymour restrained a squeak of terror. People didn’t typically get that close to Twoey. Well within range for it to _eat_. “Fascinating! Unbelievable! You don’t see plants like this just anywhere! Say, what do you feed her?”

“Wh-what?” Seymour squeaked. There weren’t any other customers in the shop now, only Mr. Mushnik at the register, withdrawing the money for the day. When Seymour threw an anxious look back at him, the shop owner made a gesture like, ‘answer whatever questions he has!’ 

“I said, what do you feed her, Krelborn?”

“Um-“ Seymour’s heart pounded. Falcon was running his fingers along the seam of Audrey II’s lips, and it was hard to think straight. How long would Audrey II’s patience last? Fresh food, playing at its mouth like this, when there wasn’t any other customer in the store. It would be too easy to make quick work of Mr. Kabarachi, in just a few bites. “L-look, please don’t touch-“ 

“It’s understandable to be protective of a marvel like this,” Falcon nodded knowingly “but I assure you, she’ll be fine.”

“Please,” Seymour whimpered. He didn’t know whether to watch Falcon’s motions, or to keep an eye on the plant. While his gaze swerved back and forth between the two, he swore he saw a leaf twitch. Oh, Twoey must be impossibly hungry. 

“Now, then,” Falcon rambled on, “If my deductions are correct, her closest relatives eat flies, ants, other such insects-“

“Flies, yes,” Seymour said, just to satisfy the man’s prying. “That’s all, flies and some water, and sun-“

“But those smaller varieties exert tremendous effort to snare their food,” the man continued musingly. “The greatest question I had upon hearing about this plant - _how_ does it eat. _What_ does it eat? You don’t understand Seymour, she must consume enormous amounts of protein to have achieved such a staggering size. Or perhaps you do understand!”

“Just lots of beetles and flies and things,” Seymour said frantically. 

“Humm…” 

Did he know? Did he suspect? If he was the sort of expert he claimed (he’d already deduced so much that was correct!), then… would he find out? Seymour sweated under his collar. His legs trembled. 

Falcon leaned further over the plant. This time his gestures weren’t petting so much as prying. He was interested by the bulb, seeming to realize it could be _opened_. 

“Stop!” Seymour yelled. It was rare indeed he yelled, really yelled, but he did here, horrible images flaring into his mind of the plant clamping its jaws around this man. “Stop, please!”

Falcon hesitated, brow furrowed. “It’s not -“

“Twoey’s a delicate plant,” Seymour shouted, “and - and -“ he lost steam, not sure where he was going. 

“Hey hey - what’s going on here?” Mr. Mushnik rushed over. “Seymour, the hell is wrong with you!?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Mushnik -“

“No, no!” Falcon raised his hands up and stepped off the stool. Seymour practically slumped to see the man take a step away from Twoey. “I didn’t mean to scare your little botanist, Mr. Mushnik-“

“Nonsense, he’s fine.”

Seymour tensed up. Would Mr. Mushnik dismiss him, and let Falcon continue? “I’m worried about Audrey II,” Seymour blurted. “You know - you know how fragile it is -“

“Humm.” Mr. Mushnik’s frown deepened as he recalled the numerous times Audrey II had gone through its cycle of wilting and reviving. “Maybe it is best to leave it alone,” Mr. Mushnik hazarded. 

Seymour could have sobbed in relief. As it was, he was a clammy shaking mess. The man could have been eaten. He could have found out what Audrey II really ate. It was too much for Seymour in one day. 

While Mr. Mushnik shuffled Mr. Kabarachi out, trying to negotiate the sale of a few plants, Seymour slumped against the front desk. He was panting, like he’d run a race. Oh, he’d have to give a big thanks to Twoey later, for resisting something like that… 

“Seymour,” came Audrey’s soft voice.

“Audrey!” He turned.

She smiled, averting her eyes shyly. “I think it’s sweet how you care so much about that plant, Seymour.”

“Haah… yeah. Um. Th-thanks.” Gee. Most times he’d be so grateful to have Audrey talking to him like this. Right now, he was so shaken up he wasn’t sure his nerves could handle any more. Which made it all the more shocking when she leaned in and kissed his forehead.

He blinked. Had - had that really happened? Was he imagining things? Audrey - Audrey - 

_Kissed -_

He touched his forehead, mouth stupidly ajar. 

Audrey smiled. “G’night, Seymour.”


	7. Radio Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, idea credit for this chapter goes to Sp00py!

Seymour was thrust from one radio show to another to another, yet the public’s curiosity about Twoey was never sated. The buzz and pizzazz of these shows was enough to nauseate anyone, but especially quiet Seymour who was happiest tending plants in the basement. 

Even after Twoey got too big to take in, hosts from across the nation vied to have the scrawny botanist speak about its size and quirks. Seymour would love to say no, but with Mr. Mushnik steering his public presence, he was shunted from seat to seat, microphone to microphone, radio host to radio host. Gee, he said so much about Audrey II he didn’t think there was anything left to say (except the truth about its appetite, but oh no he wasn’t gonna cover that). The same questions were asked and answered, and nobody seemed to tire of it. Nobody but Seymour, who was dead sick of it all. 

“Here we are again with the amazing, the fantastic, the incredible - Seymour Krelborn! Ding ding ding! But you don’t want to hear **_me_** talking your ear off, huh? No! You’re here to ask this man YOUR questions! So c’mon all, call in, what have you got to ask him!?”

The first caller was an elderly lady, who rattled on too long about how much she just adored Audrey II, and hoped she might one day have the strength to meet the plant in person.

“That’s - that’s um, very nice ma’am-“

Next was a vibrant young man, voice leaping with excitement, as he described that he quit three years into law school in order to pursue botany, so he could be just like Seymour. “I just want to thank you and your strange and interesting plant for showing me who I’m truly meant to be!”

“Uhhh. M-Maybe you should give law school another chance-? I mean, it’s uh-“

“I love this kid’s jokes!” Boomed the host. “All right, next call!”

Seymour wilted in place. Nobody really listed to him. Not if he wasn’t talking about Audrey II.

“Got our next happy listener connecting…. aaaall right, heeee-llo! Who’s this we have on the line here?”

A low chuckle crackling through the speaker had Seymour instantly sitting upright in his chair, heart hammering. That laugh. He shouldn't be hearing it anywhere _near_ here. “Why,” the caller purred, “I’m jus’ a lowly fan of the grand ol’ Audrey II.”

“Oh, aren’t we all!” The host laughed, while blood swiftly left Seymour’s face. “So, what’s your question, sir?”

Laughter rumbled under the words, “I got a real easy one for ya, Krelborn. Tell me, baby, whaddaya feed her to make her so big, and so _powerful_?”

Seymour knew who - or rather _what_ \- was on the line. But it wasn’t possible. Twoey was a -a _plant_ , it couldn't use the _phone_ -

Then again… there was the time Twoey kept ringing the shop bell to trick Seymour into thinking customers were coming… And once Twoey stole the pruning shears to taunt him…

It really was learning by observation. Seymour didn’t know why that made him so uncomfortable, but it did… How much was Twoey learning, just by watching? How much could Twoey do on its own?

“Hey, champ!” A punch to Seymour’s side brought him back to the presence. “You gonna answer this fine man’s question?” The host said, this time in a dramatic voice for the audience. Oh god, hundreds of people were listening. Thousands!

“Uhhh, um- right, yeah, it’s a special formula, I - I already answered th-“

“Suuure,” Twoey drawled, “but you’re not givin’ details! Spit it out, kid - what is it, a little extra sun? A special fertilizer? Or _maybe…”_ Twoey’s voice took on a dangerous edge, like a child about to spill a big secret that it knows it shouldn't say. “Maybe ya give it-“

“ _Wait_!”

“ _Blood_?” Twoey licked its lips, the sound wet and gross over the air. 

“No, no, I definitely wouldn't -“

“Maybe when it’s all dark an’ quiet, just the two uv’ya, you’re-“

“OKAY!” Seymour’s hand shot across the desk and banged on the control board - the idea was ending the call, but instead he struck a button that produced a plaintive _moo_ sound.

“Slittin’ your veins and pourin’-“

“THAT’S NOT-"

“Whoa, Seymour, that’s delicate equipment!”

A bell ringing noise, a crashing noise, _where the hell was the end call_ -

“Your warm sweet-“

_SMACK_! Seymour found the right button, and the call ended.

Silence. 

The host stared at Seymour like he was crazy. Then, in a cheerful voice unfitting of his expression, he declared, “WELL! Looks like we’re encountering some technical difficulties right about now, but you just give us five minutes, folks, and we’ll be right back on air!”

The host leaned over the desk, frowning. “Say, Krelborn, you feelin’ arright there?” 


	8. Sleep Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pinkydee10 for the idea of Seymour catching Audrey II talking in its sleep!

Seymour needed some fresh air. Some distance from the shop - or more particularly, the ever-growing plant within it. That was all he wanted. Unfortunately, leaving at night meant sneaking past Audrey II, when the plant was sure to be hungry. 

Seymour opened the basement door ever-so-slowly, and peered around it. How alert was Audrey II? Seymour doubted it found sitting still and doing nothing all that entertaining, and during open hours, it seemed to mentally retreat and become less aware of what was going on. At least that was what Seymour surmised. Maybe it had a similar state for when it was late at night, and nobody was around to entertain it. 

The flicker of thought crossed Seymour’s mind that this was a particularly boring sort of existence, and no wonder Audrey II took to (usually troublesome) antics to get Seymour to pay attention to it. But Seymour waved off that thought.Right now he didn’t want to dwell on the thing’s intellectual aptitude. He wanted out. A break. Just a few minutes, an hour at the most, to be with his own thoughts, no chance of Audrey II yelling from above about needing food. 

It was difficult, though, to determine just how aware the plant was or was not at the moment. It had no eyes that Seymour had ever found, though it certainly had a way of seeing things. It didn’t need to lay down to rest, instead assuming an upright position for the monotony of a work day. Though alone, it was in that position now, not a single leaf or vine twitching. 

Seymour chewed on his lip. Would it notice him if he slipped out? Maybe if he was quiet enough? 

The basement door snicked shut behind Seymour. One step at a time he inched across the floor. Three-fourths of the way to the exit, and he thought maybe he would make it after all… 

Then the plant snarled one word, low and dangerously deep: “ _Krelborn_.”

It rattled Seymour’s bones and petrified him in place. Slowly he turned his head. The plant wasn’t in its upright position any longer. Its teeth were loosely bared, its head hanging lower than usual, but certainly facing Seymour. The botanist trembled. “I-I wasn’t tryin’ to escape or nothin,’ Twoey, I just wanted a night to myself… or a few minutes, at least!"

The plant didn’t answer. That was rare. Seymour quavered to wonder how mad the plant was to not say anything at all, to just leave him trembling in its wake. “I-I’m sorry, Twoey,” he stuttered. “I’ll - I’ll just head to the basement if that’s what you want-“

“ _Krelborn_ ,” the plant said again, this time in a voice not so fierce. 

“What is it?” Seymour asked, bewildered. “What do you want?”

A few vines furled on the floor, one striking Seymour’s leg clumsily. 

“Twoey, please, I’m-“

“Feed me.”

“I can’t-“

“Feed… me.”

Seymour huffed. “Now c’mon, I just fed ya last night!“

“A furreh kitten,” Twoey stated. Seymour blinked. If it were any other situation, he’d probably laugh at hearing such a thing come from the carnivorous plant’s mouth. Even still, a smile flicked awkwardly to his lips, before the next thought chased it away: So Twoey had a taste for animal flesh now, huh. 

“I-I can’t do that, don’t you remember? It was hard enough feeding you that cat… I’m not gonna do something like that ever-“

“That furreh kitten,” Audrey II muttered.

“Um-“

Audrey II rambled on, “He’s crossin’ the Fyuejrn Nebula. Told ‘im not to go, but did he listen? Nuh- _uh_. Weell, let him get what’s comin’. Let him see what’s on the other side. Ain’t _my_ problem.”

Seymour stared. “Wh-what about a kitten?”

Abrupt rage seized Audrey II as it cried,“Eulkk krckk sakcrn!” 

Or at least that was about Seymour’s understanding of what he’d just heard. The cadence was vaguely familiar, reminiscent of the time Seymour had stumbled across Audrey II singing. Except this time the syllables were harsh and vicious, whereas in the song, they were smooth and flowing. 

“The-that’s your language, ain’t it?” Seymour said. “I can’t understand it, Twoey, I ain’t never heard it before!” As his pitch raised, the plant shifted again, this time nearer, and Seymour stumbled away just in time - if he had remained where he was standing, the toothy bulb would have collided into him. “Twoey, be careful!”

“Hrckarratt!”

“I don’t know what ya need; you gotta speak Engl-ack!“

A vine swiped under Seymour’s feet. Before he knew it, his butt struck the floor, and he gasped. “Don’t trip me, either! I ain’t gonna-“ he had to dodge another vine that swiped not far from his face. “Twoey!” Seymour scrambled back to his feet. “What’s gotten into ya?”

Twoey bulb listed to the side. If it had eyes, it’d be looking in a slightly wrong direction to be seeing Seymour. Seymour followed its line of sight, but… it was just looking at the door. There was nothing interesting there. It was eerie, if nothing else, to see Twoey staring so intently at absolutely nothing. 

“You’re givin’ me the willies,” Seymour confessed. 

Audrey II’s head swung back around but overshot and ended up staring to Seymour’s other side, more towards the cash register. The plant muttered, “Ain’t givin’ _nothing_. Fellow says he gonna scram. Don’t believe it, wouldn’t bet a damn coin.”

It was like the plant didn’t even realize Seymour was there. As if it was… An odd thought tickled in the back of Seymour’s mind. Twoey’s lips were slightly parted. They twitched every few moments as if to form words. Its head made micro-movements, a small jerk this way, then that way. Maybe tracking something Seymour couldn't see.

Without any input at all from Seymour, the plant continued, slurring words together, “Gotta git your act together. Wanna move up in the world? Then I got your back. I got…” it trailed off.

“Twoey?” Seymour tried. 

The plant rambled more words in the language that Seymour didn’t know. Twoey was sleeping. It had to be! That was the only explanation, even though it was hard to believe. Seymour had no idea the plant ever slept. He didn’t know it needed to! “You’re sleepin’!” Seymour repeated, laughing. “Oh, Twoey, you’re just dreamin’.”

The plant mumbled something indistinguishable.

Boy. Seymour felt a lot calmer now that he knew the plant was just asleep. All the nonsense it had been saying really spooked him, but now he had nothing to worry about. Anyway, it sure was interesting Twoey slept. And dreamed, too. It was… humanizing. “You can’t be too bad if you dream and sleep like people, can ya?”Seymour said, oddly energized and warmed to the plant he’d been raising. “Gee, Twoey. I wonder what it is ya dream about?” Maybe he got a little too confident, because he rested his hand on Twoey’s bulb comfortingly, and that changed the whole atmosphere. 

Twoey’s teeth tightened shut with a chilling click, while its bulb reared up to properly look at Seymour. 

“Hell you doin’ up here, Krelborn?” It demanded. It was awake. 

“Eep!” Seymour threw his hands in front of his face. “N-nothing!”

Leaves crossed. Its voice turned sly, “Then while you’re here, how ‘bout you gimme som’a your blood?”

“Ah, rats,” Seymour sighed. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [concerning a hungry, but slightly more patient Audrey II [ podfic ]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334024) by [canarypods (canarywrites)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canarywrites/pseuds/canarypods), [Doceo_Percepto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto)




End file.
